


let me, please

by serendippety



Series: darling, i fancy you [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Frottage, M/M, where they're pursuing their solo careers during the hiatus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:28:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26549005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serendippety/pseuds/serendippety
Summary: “No, Li,” Niall manages, voice stuttering as his hips continue to rock steadily into Liam’s hand; the grip loose as Liam palms at Niall lazily. “Got myself a fucking boner, in case you haven’t noticed.”
Relationships: Niall Horan/Liam Payne
Series: darling, i fancy you [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2099949
Comments: 7
Kudos: 27





	let me, please

**Author's Note:**

> I think I opened a floodgate when I wrote 'one and one and one' because now, they're all I think about it in the spare hours of my life. 
> 
> As you'd expect, this is RPF.

Niall just isn’t sure how it had all come to this: back bowed against the bathroom sink, panting hotly as Liam sucks something vicious into the juncture where neck meets shoulder. The mark, of course, is nestled somewhere hidden. Liam had done his due diligence; loosening Niall’s tie to pop open his collar, just so he could reach somewhere no one else can see. So that he doesn’t have to give in to inhibitions and just go carnal against the pale column of Niall’s neck, marking him up sweetly. 

It’s not like Niall minds. He quite enjoys it, really. The secrecy of it all makes his dick pulse, straining painfully against the damp material of his boxer briefs, rubbing uncomfortably up against the metal teeth of his zipper. And honestly, if Niall lets his mind wander, to actually think about pressing a finger to the hickey in a room full of people, enjoying the ache while everyone else is none the wiser, well, it just makes his dick blurt something thick and obscene. 

They’ve done this before – casual sex, getting each other off and all that. Although, they haven’t done it in two years now. It had stopped when touring had stopped, when five had turned to four and then to none. And obviously, they’ve never done it in a public bathroom while a fucking award show is happening. The speakers are blaring something loud and annoying even in the bathrooms - Niall can’t really care about who’s won what. Not when someone could walk in on them any minute. 

He bucks his hips once more, unconsciously, as Liam works his fingers deftly at Niall through the material of his slacks, applying a good amount of pressure as he massages around the stiffness that’s caught between the layers of clothes. 

“Payno,” Niall pants, pathetically aroused with his eyes at half-mast. He insists, though, that he’s allowed to be this easy; that it’s fine his libido has fallen to the point that mere touching – not even a proper hand job, at that – is enough to get him hurtling towards the finish line. After all, he hasn’t gotten laid in months, and Liam has the dexterity of someone who’s been trained into some kind of proficiency, years of experience kept under his belt. 

Liam nips once more at the bruise blossoming purple under his lips before pulling away, turning his attention fully to the shorter man; an indication that he’s heard Niall groan out his name. 

“You good?” Liam asks, clearly humoured, but voice gravelly with arousal.

Niall glares at him half-heartedly. “No, Li,” Niall manages, voice stuttering as his hips continue to rock steadily into Liam’s hand; the grip loose as Liam palms at Niall lazily. “Got myself a fucking boner, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Liam laughs, eyes turning into crescents. 

It had seemed impossible, but Niall’s pretty sure Liam’s gotten handsomer since the last time he’s seen him. The cuts of Liam’s jawlines just seem that much sharper, the slants of his cheekbones more defined. He looks stunning – mature in a way that is both boyish and awfully _hot_. Niall just can’t help himself when he starts thinking about what the rest of Liam looks like now – if they’re just as changed as his face. 

Niall’s attention gets pulled back into the present when Liam leans in to steal a kiss from him, swollen lips pressing against Niall’s thinner ones. 

“Come and get it,” Liam whispers coyly, voice low and sultry. And Niall knows exactly what to do.

After all these years, Liam still knows how to do it perfectly. Still remembers how Niall likes to take it, the right things to do in order to coax an orgasm that has Niall feeling like jelly. The thought comes to Niall flittingly – how much he had missed all their casual, late night rendezvous – before he feels his vision go black with the wash of relief. 

Niall ends up moaning, loud and throaty against Liam’s shoulder when he comes, not caring if he’s gotten foundation all over the other man’s jacket. He shivers as his hips snap erratically, rutting desperately as he rides out his high with Liam’s hand pressed against his groin deliciously. The sensation is incredible: the tightness, pressure and chaffing just _doing things_ to Niall, creating a friction that sparks up his spine and pushes him over the edge. The pleasure gets milked out of him, overriding any discomfort. 

He doesn’t think he’s ever had an orgasm that felt as liberating as it just did.

Niall’s only made aware of how much he’s leaning onto Liam for support when his breathing evens out, the black around his vision slowly swirling away. The other senses come back to him slowly with a hyperclarity that comes with readjusting back to the present. 

He notices first how one of Liam’s hands is steady on his hips, rubbing comforting circles into his skin where his shirt has rucked up. Then he notices how Liam’s scent is strong in his nostrils – the familiar spice of cologne now perfect with an added touch of sweat. Then he hears how someone else had won one of the fucking awards that Niall had been nominated for.

“Fuck,” Niall groans, steadying himself back onto his feet. He feels gross; the cum having soaked into the fabric of his boxer briefs. It makes the cloth stick to him and it drags unpleasantly across his skin with every shift of his body. The weight of his actions settles on him like a powerful regret: that he’s just come into his pants, that he might actually have to go and get up on stage, _soiled_. 

Liam, on the other hand, seems highly unconcerned with the whole situation. He grins, cheeky. “Still got it in me, haven’t I?” he says, smugly. 

Had it been anyone else, Niall might’ve decked them one. But it’s _Liam_ , and the way he says it is endearing in a way that makes Niall’s heart squeeze with the sudden force of an affection so rosy it makes his pulse jump. “Was good,” he mumbles, almost sleepy; post-coital fatigue seeping into his bones. 

He almost goes back to clutching at Liam; to bury his face against the other man, seeking a comfortable warmth. But he gets stopped mid-action. Instead, Liam brings his hands up to Niall’s collar, buttoning the shirt up smartly and fixing Niall’s tie. Then he gets a few paper towels to dab off the sweat on Niall’s face and hair line.

“You might wanna clean off, some,” Liam tells him while he’s fixing Niall’s hair, sweeping loose brown locks backwards and tucking them neatly into place. It makes Niall’s hair look somewhat presentable and less tell-tale of the raunchiness that had just transpired.

It’s only at this point that Niall actually notices the obvious tent in Liam’s own trousers. The physical reaction he has almost shocks him – the way his mouth starts to water with a sudden desire for the ghost of an ache in his jaws. He offers without so much as thinking about it. “Could blow you off, yeah?”

But Liam only waggles his eyebrows at Niall. He presses a thumb into the small dip in Niall’s chin, and tilts the shorter man’s face upwards, just enough so he can press another quick kiss to Niall’s lips. “You’d fancy that, wouldn’t you?” Liam says, amused. “I don’t think we have enough time, though. I’ll manage.”

And once again, Niall is surprised by the way his body unexpectedly reacts: his heart sinks and a hot flash of disappointment lacerates into his skin, making it prickle with a discomfort that Niall often associates with being sad. 

The displeasure probably showed on his face though, because Liam thumbs fondly at his cheeks, running his finger over the rough bristles of Niall’s facial hair. “Next time?” Liam offers.

Niall takes it. “Next time then. Don’t forget about it, Payno.” 

“I would never,” Liam replies, cheeks lifting as an easy-going smile spreads across his face. He looks down at Niall’s groin again, where a blot of moisture can still be seen despite the dark colours of his slacks. He barely suppresses a giggle as he says, “Should really get that cleaned in case you need to go up later, though.”

Really, Liam has no right to laugh. It’s entirely his fault this is happening.

“Right, right,” Niall mumbles instead. He lets himself into a cubicle to get a wad of toilet paper, and Liam takes it as his cue to head back after making his own due adjustments. 

It’s not something Niall ever thought he’d wish for, but quite suddenly, he really doesn’t want to win anything tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wanted to make this into a full-fledge fic but I had nothing but the briefest outline for it, with absolutely no details to fit in between. 
> 
> Also. If you've watched the terrible word count fluctuation on 'one and one and one' i'm sorry. i'm terribly fickle for no reason at all;;
> 
> Any sequel mentioned in the comments is possibly an abandoned project


End file.
